


read to me by the fire

by thisprentiss



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Wedding, anyway hèléne being Soft and Loving wasn't really smth i Expected to write but here it is, pierre comes like This Close to an anxiety attack so just gonna warn u abt that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 13:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisprentiss/pseuds/thisprentiss
Summary: their first time doesn't go as planned, so hèléne suggests an alternate activity





	read to me by the fire

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes sexytimes just arent what both parties want! and hèléne respects that! anyway this is when her and pierre first got married, so she isn't super bitter Yet

Their wedding night, Hèléne came into the room in nothing but a green silk robe that was just a little too short on her, dark curls falling loose over her shoulders. Pierre was sat cross-legged on the bed in his underclothes and socks, back resting against the headboard, hoping his face didn't give away exactly how frightened he was.

Hèléne gave him a coy smile, crossing the room slowly,  _slowly_ as she undid the string around her waist and let the robe fall to the floor, revealing her naked, sculpted body. Pierre's heart was racing watching Hèléne crawl across the bed toward him, but he wasn't sure it was in the good way. "You know," Hèléne purred, and she  _bit his earlobe,_ _what the fuck_ , "I hear the consummation is the best part of the wedding."

Pierre didn't correct her pronunciation of consummation, he knew it would ruin the mood. He tried for a smile instead. But it probably looked more like a grimace. "I- I've heard the same. Dear wife," he wanted to smack himself, he sounded like he was going to be sick.  _What an excellent emotion to convey to your new wife. Great job, Bezukhov._

"Mm, call me that again," Hèléne straddled him, hands stroking up his chest and wrapping around the back of his neck. 

"D- dear  _wife_ ," he was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe as Hèléne ground her bare crotch up against his clothed one. She kissed him deep, tongue plunging into his mouth, and he tasted vodka and let out a half-strangled noise, pulling back so hard his head banged against the headboard with a resounding  _crack_.

Hèléne kept her hands braced on the pillows, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Pierre's heart was pounding so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest. "I'm sorry," he breathed, swallowing the panic that was rising in his throat, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- never mind. C- can you do that... again? Please?"

The smile returned to his new wife's face, and she ducked back in to kiss him roughly. This time Pierre didn't pull away, he allowed her tongue to explore his mouth, her hands tangling in his hair, her naked body pressing up against him- her hand was suddenly traveling down to his groin, snaking into his underpants, and without thinking, consumed with panic, he shoved her off of him.

She fell backwards onto the bed with a yelp, immediately sitting up and glaring at him with fire in her eyes. "What the  _hell!?_ " she snapped, and Pierre tried to respond, but his words were caught fast in his throat, and he couldn't breathe, and his heart was beating so  _so so_ _fast_ and tears were springing into his eyes but he didn't know  _why, God why couldn't he breathe-_

Hèléne put a gentle hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. 

Pierre slowly brought his arms down from where they were covering his head defensively, and looked at his wife through his tears. She looked  _concerned_. Of course... without his glasses, Pierre couldn't  _really_ tell, but her eyes had softened, and she wasn't wearing her usual seductive smirk.

" _I'm sorry_ ," it came out in a broken sort of whimper, and he allowed a choked sob to escape when Hèléne reached up to brush away his tears.

"What's wrong, love?" she asked, brow furrowed slightly. Pierre couldn't answer, he just hugged his knees to his chest and shook his head quickly, shivering despite how hot the room was. He was  _definitely_ going to be sick now; he was breathing in gasps and his stomach was twisted into a knot.

But then Hèléne touched his hand  _so tenderly_ , holding it in her own and rubbing circles with her thumb into his palm. He allowed himself to uncurl just a bit, leaning toward his wife, and Hèléne closed the distance between them by pulling him into her arms, letting him bury his face in her bare shoulder and cry. She braced one hand on the back of his head and ran the other one up and down his back, murmuring words of comfort.

After what seemed like an eternity, Pierre could mostly breathe again, and he sat back, sniffling pitifully. He wanted to apologize again, but he couldn't get any words out. Hèléne gave him a smile.

Then she leaned in, and Pierre tensed up, expecting her to crush their lips together again now that he was done crying. But instead she just pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and sat back once again with her hand still on his face. "Let's get redressed," she said quietly, stroking her thumb over Pierre's cheek, "I'll have the servants get a nice fire going in the study, you can read to me on the sofa."

"I'm sorry," Pierre repeated, chin quivering, "I ruined this, I'm sorry-" but Hèléne shushed him.

"Don't worry, dear husband," she said, "I'm going to get dressed. Take as much time as you need."

Hèléne went to climb off the bed, but before she could leave, Pierre grabbed her wrist. She turned back around in surprise. He swallowed thickly, feeling both anxiety and gratitude bubble up inside him. "Thank you." 

He read to her for two and a half hours in front of the fire, her head resting on his lap.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu @frogyell on tumblr


End file.
